


Too Soon to Say Goodbye

by Stonyinspirationwriter



Series: The Ava Stark-Rogers Series [13]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Denial, Depression, Engagement, Established Relationship, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood, Grief/Mourning, Hospital, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, OC James Rhodes jr., OC ava stark-rogers - Freeform, Old Age, Old Tony Stark, Original Character(s), Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Parent-Child Relationship, References to Illness, Stony - Freeform, Superhusbands (Marvel), older pepper potts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:57:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonyinspirationwriter/pseuds/Stonyinspirationwriter
Summary: Everyone dies, even the great Tony Stark. But what happens to the people left behind? His daughter and husband struggle to make sense of a life absent of him.





	Too Soon to Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Part of The Ava Stark-Rogers series, but there is no need to be familiar with the series and this story can be viewed entirely as a separate piece. 
> 
> Special thank you to gigiree for being my beta and making sense of my word vomit

_“Daddy!”_

_She’s two years old, stumbling through the darkness on unsteady legs in search of her father. The hallway endlessly stretches before her, continuing to elongate with every step._

_“Daddy!” She cries, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. With every passing moment the toddler grows more frantic, her cries increasing in volume._

_Out of sheer frustration and despair she plops on the ground, helplessly sobbing and pleading for her Daddy to find her._

_Suddenly there’s the sound of footsteps and then she’s being lifted off the ground into a welcoming embrace._

 

* * *

 

Ava Stark-Rogers jolts awake.

She’s reclined in the driver's seat of her car, her coat draped over her like a blanket. A rapping sound on the driver’s window jolts her up to a sitting position.

“Ma'am, are you alright?” A police officer stands warily at her window, a pair of sunglasses obscuring his expression. .

“Yeah!” She rasps, fumbling to lower the window. Her throat is sore and she is in desperate need for a drink of water. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What are you doing out here?The officer inquires, surveying the inside of the car. He looks young. Maybe in his early thirties. Not too much older than herself. His name plate reads Molina.

“Jus' uh, takin’ a nap”, Ava offers with a sheepish grin. Off the reflection of the officer’s aviators she catches a glimpse of her haggard appearance: red-faced, eyelids swollen, hair a disheveled mess of tangles. God, she looks like shit.

 _How fitting_ , she thinks to herself. _I look exactly how I feel._

“Ma'am… “The young officer drawls. “Have you been drinking?” Ava’s eye twitches at the word ma'am. How old did he think she was? Did he not know the proper way to formally regard a woman under forty?

Swallowing back the urge to educate him on the proper use of the word, she shakes her head. “No, I haven’t.” She strains a smile in hopes that it will sell her credibility.

She can’t fault his suspicion. He’s come across a Mercedes-Benz parked out in a shady part of town with a young woman that was allegedly passed out in the driver’s seat. It doesn’t take a genius to configure what could be running through the young officer’s mind.

Perhaps she should have gotten drunk. Although fleeting, the thought had entered her mind as she was aimlessly driving. Only now it seems like a wasted opportunity.

“I’m gonna need to see your license and registration.” The officer instantly commands, obviously not taking her word for face value. Releasing a short sigh of exasperation, Ava fishes through her purse for her wallet and slides her identification from its tight plastic compartment and into the officer's hand. The young officer eyes the identification and immediately does a double take before swiftly removing his sunglasses. His eyes widen in wonderment, darting back and forth from the card to her face while Ava impatiently waits, fingers lightly drumming against the steering wheel.

“Whoa!” Officer Molina exclaims, dropping all formality and authority. “You’re–!” His mouth agape, he gives an incredulous shake of his head.

It was one of the broad spectrum of possible reactions when people discovered her identity. The biological daughter of the great Tony Stark, The Invincible Iron Man. Newly made public stepdaughter of the legendary Captain America. A true child of The Avengers.

It was a hazard and a nuisance. The weight of those titles have always been crushingly heavy to bear, especially for a young woman of her stature, at least without the aid of a suit of armor.

 _“Those things don’t define who you are_ ”, her Dad had told her. _“ I don’t want you to be like us. Like me.”_

 _“What is so wrong with being like you?”_ She questioned. _“I am like you. That’s something I’m proud of.”_

Although he had smiled in return, there was a melancholy look on his face that had bewildered her at the time.

Officer Molina seemed to catch himself and regained his composer. “Ms. Stark”, he said with a nod of acknowledgment. “On behalf of the NYPD, I thank you and The Avengers for your service.”

Ava nodded back in thanks. “You too.”

Had this been any other day that kind of acknowledgment would have greatly moved her. Under the scrutiny of everyone, it was impossible to receive any sort of validation for her place as an Avenger. But at this moment she felt too numb to bother.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father”, Officer Molina sympathizes. “He was a good man. My father always used to say that. He would have been killed during The Battle of New York if it hadn’t been for The Avengers.”

As he spoke Ava stared past his shoulder with a dazed expression on her face, her view watering and wavering before her.

He handed back her card, holding it in front of her for a long moment before she finally took the cue to take it. “Hey, I know this is gonna sound strange, with you being who you are”, Officer Molina shyly explains, “but this isn’t the best of areas, and I wouldn’t feel right just leaving you here.”

Ava stares at him for a long moment before finally comprehending what he was telling her. “Oh. Okay. Uh, sure. No problem. Thank you, Officer.”

She puts her key in the ignition and places the car in drive. As soon as the police car is far enough in her rear view mirror a sob escapes her lips and she feels like she's going to be torn apart by the crying that follows.

 

* * *

 

**Before**

 

“God Bless you,” Tony says, exhaling a sigh of relief when his daughter hands him the coffee cup with _“Tony”_   written in sharpie. “Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite?”

Tony is sitting up, back resting against the the raised hospital bed, wearing his silk purple robe over the standard hospital gown; his white hair nicely combed, his facial hair trimmed.

He had always taken such pride in his appearance, and had even declared more than once that while he was still of sound mind and able-bodied he would not allow himself to let his appearance go. But Despite his put-together appearance, it was impossible to hide the gaunt features, the pale skin, or the withering frame that told more about his situation than he would have wanted.

“As Opposed to the numerously unknown illegitimate children you father?”Ava quips, placing a quick kiss to her father’s cheek and taking a seat on the ridiculously comfortable couch. “Those playboy days finally caught up to you?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “If that were the case they’d have already crawled out of the deepest crevices, squabbling after your inheritance.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “God, that’s good!” He exclaims, an exaggerated expression of bliss on his face. “The coffee here is such shit”.

“JJ calls me a coffee-snob”, Ava grins. “I’m always shaming him his unrefined palette. He thinks Starbucks is quality coffee.”  
“There’s really no helping non-purists”, Tony laments. “Steve is the same way.”

“Where is he?” Ava asks, trying to keep her demeanor casual. She takes another sip of her coffee.

“Back at the compound. Training the mini's. It was what he referred to the new Avengers recruits. Mini Avengers.

“Nurse Sammie tells me you've been restless, especially at night.”

Somewhat, Tony admits with a shrug. “They got me so doped up on meds I barely know what day it is. He pauses. “It’s Friday, right?”  
Saturday.  
Tony shakes his head in disapproval. “Well, there you go.”

“Treat it as a vacation”, Ava offers. “Get some rest. Indulge in the chocolate pudding. I mean look at this room”, she gestures around her. He was given his own private room, and being Tony Stark, he was more than well accommodated, complete with an expensive pull-out sofa that Steve himself had insisted upon so that he may spend the night. “I mean, this isn’t the Ritz, but it’s much nicer than the average hotel room.”

“What kind of motels have you been staying in?” Tony wrinkles his nose in disgust, peering at her with disapproval.

“Very funny”, Ava mocks. You know what I mean.” Tony raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Just focus on getting better, okay”

“I’ll do my best”, Tony agrees, although his tone is too lackluster for her taste.

While Tony still had an arduous recovery ahead of him, Ava was relieved to see her father show a semblance of his former self. For a while things seemed grim, and she’d feared that her father’s sensitive immune system would succumb to his illness. In the past he’d already proven his resilience many of times before, pulling through the unthinkable, but due to his old age, more complications had risen, creating much more cause for concern. Now here he was, chastising unrefined coffee drinkers and proving once again that he truly was an Iron Man.

“You better”, Ava fiercely threatens. “You need to be well enough to walk me down the aisle.”

Tony beams at that, the wrinkles near his eyes stretching. His eyes fall on the engagement ring on her finger and he gestures for her hand. He takes her hand, examining the ring on her finger for the umpteenth time. His fingers are cold, the skin thinly stretched over bone and slightly crooked due to arthritis.

He lets go of her hand. “And how are you lovebirds doing?” He asks, dragging out lovebirds in a playful tone. How's Rhodey jr.? “

It was what he affectionately called her fiance, James Rhodes Jr., inspired by the nickname he had given James senior.

Ava snorts. “You are so sappy. And JJ is fine.” Then as an afterthought, she says, “You know, we actually got into a huge fight the other day.”

“Oh?” Tony says curiously.

“Yeah. You know that debauched mission Steve blamed on me?”

“Steve doesn’t blame you–“ Tony interjected.

“JJ took his side”, Ava barrels on, cutting him off. “Things got ugly. I ended up telling him that I don’t want to marry someone that doesn’t have my back, and he said I needed to grow up. I was so pissed off that I put on the suit and flew around the city for most of the night just to calm myself.”

Tony sighs and shakes his head in displeasure. “You’re gonna fight. Being an Avenger is the epitome of a high risk, high stress job. Add marriage into it and it becomes a powder keg.”

Ava’s staring at the engagement ring on her finger. “You and Papa made it work, though.”

“Eventually”, Tony admits. “But there’s so much wasted time”, he laments. “Don’t be like us. Learn from us, but don’t be the idiots we were.”

Ava knew the general outline of her Dad and Papa's relationship. How they couldn’t stand one another when they initially met, constantly clashing. How they became close friends and eventually developed romantic feelings for each other, only to be torn apart by what historians have since dubbed as the Superhero Civil War. It took several years and the threat of death to once again bring them together, and several more to build a healthy and stable relationship.  
“Are you having second thoughts?” Tony carefully asks.

The question catches her off guard. “What?” It had only occurred to when she was angry, and even then it had been an empty threat. “Of course not!” She objects. “Everything’s fine now. We talked.”

Apologies were given. Promises made. Make up sex had been delightfully engaged in. Check, check, and check.

“Because if you are, the window of opportunity is closing.” Tony warns. “So should I have a getaway helicopter on standby?”

“Dad, I’m not skipping out on my wedding day.” Ava dead pans. I love JJ.”

“Okay, just making sure.”

“Besides, if I had to make a getaway I’d obviously use the Iron Woman suit.

“That’s my girl”, Tony grins. “Now, about that mission…”

Ava groans. She knew he was going to come back to that, although she'd deceived herself into believing that he could have forgotten.

“I’ve read the reports, you were in the wrong. You–“

“Yeah, yeah, I know”, Ava dismisses. She’d been through this conversation a million times before–with Steve, with Natasha, with JJ. God, she was so sick of it.

“Do not interrupt me–“ Tony begins before his threatening tone is seized by a coughing fit. Ava scrambles for the pitcher of water on the bedside table, but Tony refuses the water, instead waiting for the hacking cough to finally pass before dispelling the contents into a tissue and disposing it in the small waste bin..

“Are you okay?” Ava asks, her voice strained with concern.

He then accepts the cup of water from her hand, and slowly sips the liquid. After taking a moment he finally rasps, “Sorry. I'm fine. Uh. what was I saying? He questions. “Oh right, the mission.” He clears his throat before continuing. “You had diverted from the initial mission, changed the plans you’d initially made with your team.”

“I know….I'm sorry…” Ava relents, her mind too occupied on her father’s health to plead her case.

“And you need to ease up on Steve”, Tony urges. “He’s doing his best to keep you safe, but you come at him swinging every time.”

Her relationship with Steve had suffered years before when she had become a Field Avenger. During Avengers’ training, her loving Papa had taken up the role of asshole drill sergeant, becoming domineering and impossible to please. Singling her out, trying his hardest to emotionally break her in hopes she would quit and return to a much safer position. She’d persevered though, and they’d eventually patched things up, although Ava found she still harbored some lingering resentment toward him.

Steve could be a tight ass but she had to admit that since then he’d been making the effort to make amends for his past treatment of her. Perhaps she hadn’t been as receptive as she’d initially thought.  
In hindsight, Ava realized that she was at fault, but even though Natasha had chastised her as well, she’d unfairly directed her anger at Steve. Although they’d spoken since then, Ava hadn’t bothered to formally apologize.

“I can't play mediator forever.” Tony stresses, his large brown eyes apologetic. “One day, I’m going to be gone, and it’s just going to be the two of you.”

“Shut up”, Ava whispers, her voice filled with distress. She sounds more like a helpless child rather than a nearly thirty year old women. “Don’t say that.” Her eyes sting with tears. “You’re my best friend.”

Tony’s brown eyes fill with sorrow, and both father and daughter gaze into each others eyes in silent confession.

“Hey, hey”, Tony cooes. “No crying, Monkey.” His lips slightly tremble through his smile, and Ava feels her throat straining. She refocuses her gaze and remembers her large purse seated beside her. She pretends to search through her bag, even though the item she wants is in clear view. Releasing a ragged breath, she silently recounts the elements of the periodic table before trusting herself to speak once again.

“So”, she says evenly, her voice taking on a note of formality as she pulls a tablet out of her purse. “I have some designs I want to show you. Still in the early stages but I think they hold potential. And I also have some ideas for suit modifications for the Iron Woman armor. You think you’re up for it?”

Ava doesn’t look up at him, and pretends to be too engrossed on what is on the screen to notice her father's concern.

Tony then takes a long, dragging breath through his nose before relenting. “Sure.”  
Then in a more enthusiastic tone, “why are you even bothering to ask?” He puts his reading glasses on and straightens up.. He makes grabby hands. “Gimme.”

 

* * *

**Now**

 

The ominous drone of a flat line. The clack and squeak of footsteps. The chatter of doctors and nurses. The screeching wheels on a gurney. The moans and groans of disgruntled patients. All a cacophony of endless noise that Steve’s hyper-sensitive ears have no choice but to detect.

It’s all so overwhelming. He's internally screaming but his lips remain shut.

Steve forces himself to concentrate on redirecting his focus, but his head is spinning, and everything is too loud and too bright, and yet it’s like the world is moving through molasses.

Steve has found himself staring out the window, watching the break of daylight with a detached fascination. Every time he blinks he sees Tony’s placid expression and pale skin as he laid on the cold metal slab.

“Steve.” A woman’s reflection appears in the glass, and Steve turns to face her. Pepper stands before him.  
It had been years since he’d last seen her. Her hair is much shorter, a stylish silver. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying. She embraces him, filling his nostrils with perfume. Her frame so much smaller, he leans down to receive her.

“I’m so sorry”, Pepper whispers.

“Thank you”, Steve automatically answers, the words dull to his ears. He stares past her shoulder, watching as a nurse passes by, sending a pitiful smile his way.

'How you holding up?” Pepper asks, pulling away to look him squarely in the eyes, gently demanding honestly.

“S’ hard.' Steve lamely offers.

“Ava?” Pepper inquires.

Steve heavily sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Not great.”

Steve had been there during the early morning when his husband passed. Wallowing in his own grief and denial, he’d forgotten to immediately call Ava. By the time he’d had a mind to contact her. he’d been too late. Ava had come strolling down the hall with two coffee cups in hand, just like it had been a typical day--one cup with her name scribbled in black sharpie, the other with Tony’s. When she had caught sight of his face she’d stopped in her tracks. Steve had taken the drinks from her and gently delivered the news, doing his best to keep his emotions in order.

“No”, Ava had incessantly denied. “No, you're wrong. I just saw him yesterday.” She’d pushed past him and stepped into Tony’s room, frantically calling his name until one of the nurses had confirmed the harsh reality.

“No, he’s not!” She cried, shoving Steve away with all the force she could muster. “He was fine!” She kept insisting.

Steve had wrapped his arms around her in a restraining, but gentle hug while she struggled. After a few moments she had stopped, and slumped forward, burying her face in his chest and crying into his shirt. She had demanded to see him, and Steve couldn’t deny her of her chance to say her goodbye. It had taken every ounce of Steve’s will to contain himself as Ava stood over Tony’s lifeless body. He quietly stood by and watched as the truth quietly seeped in for her, further reiterating the reality to him as well.

Then after a while, with arms folded over her chest, and her mascara mingling along with her tears, she’d quickly strode past him down the hall, passing Natasha and Bucky, who had just been arriving, before disappearing around the corner. He’d done nothing other than helplessly watch her go. By the time Natasha and Bucky had reached him he was slumped against the wall and burying his face into his hands.

That had been several hours ago, and no one had been able to get a hold of Ava since. Steve was filled with anxiety. The only thing stopping him from scouring the city in search of her was his refusal to leave his husband alone.

“I shouldn’t have let her go”, Steve says regretfully, clenching his jaw.

“She’ll turn up”, Pepper reassures him. “If she’s anything like Tony–“ her words break off on his name. Pepper shuts her eyes for a moment, her expression pained. “She’ll turn up when she’s ready.”

“I'm sorry.” Steve says.

“Sorry?” Pepper says, a bewildered expression on her face. “What are you apologizing for?”

“Because you lost him too.”

Pepper stares at him., the slight quiver of her bottom lip tearing at the seam of her mask of composure. Steve knew that Pepper loved Tony. No longer in love, but the love they had shared was too great to simply fade. And despite the passing of years, and the distance, they remained in contact. The level of care between them may had bothered Steve if it had been with anyone other than Pepper.

“How are you really holding up, Steve?' Pepper gently reiterates, looking him squarely in the eyes, coaxing candor. Steve could feel his throat tightening.

“I don’t know what to do, Steve rasps. How am I supposed to–He swallows against his tightening throat, and when he opens his mouth to speak again a sob escapes his lips, and Pepper is hugging him again. “I can't believe he’s gone. “

This seemingly frail woman was the anchor currently keeping him from drifting away on a wave of sorrow. She truly was a remarkable woman, Steve silently acknowledged.

Steve reminded himself that he couldn’t allow himself to shut down; Ava needed him to remain intact. He’d have to prevail, just as he always had. But he was so tired of being the one always left behind. Whether he was frozen in time or wide awake, the world continued on. Time ravaged those he loved but alluded him. For once he’d like to stop being the survivor. To not be the one left alone in the end. His life now resembled an endless tunnel. A pitch black purgatory with no end in sight that he had no choice but to stumble through. There was no going back. All he could do was continue marching on like the soldier he was.

 

* * *

 

The Mark 1 version of the Iron woman armor stands garishly behind a glass case. The sleek, blue and red colored surface illuminated under its own spotlight.

Together, Tony and Ava had spent countless hours perfecting the armor, eventually reaching its current design. They’d spent a lot of time creating, inventing together. Ever since she was a child he’d always found someway to include her in the process, no matter how small. She’d sit there stoically, watching her father in quiet fascination.

Growing up, she had the opportunity of being exposed to some of the greatest minds the words had to offer. But even with the likes of Reed Richards and Hank Pym, any amount of educated input was invalid until Daddy voiced his own opinion. Without her father everything she’d been working on would remain unfinished.

If her father wasn’t here to see it, how could anything truly be complete?

While the entire world was buzzing over the news of the death of the great Tony Stark’s, Ava had shut herself in her father’s home workshop, placing it on complete lock down and shutting off her phone.

The scavengers were picking him apart. Dissecting him ,placing his life into concise compartments. To them, Tony Stark was a public figure: celebrity, genius, billionaire, former Avenger; a controversial figure. But he was so much more. He was a humanitarian. He was funny, he was loving, he was a loyal friend, a devoted husband. Most importantly, he was her best friend, and the best damned father anyone could ask for.

How was it that her father had been dead less than 24 hours and the whole world already knew about it? She questions. Who had talked to the press? Was it a nurse? Possibly a doctor? 'According to a personal source', one article boasted, she’d been having a 'difficult time processing her father’s death'. Who the fuck is this alleged personal source? Wasn’t she allowed to privately grieve in peace? There's this giant, gaping wound in her heart and the world was maliciously throwing salt in it.

Dummy rolls up to her, a dirty rag clutched in his claws in offering. Ava quizzically stares at the bot before it dawns on her that Dummy is trying to be helpful by giving her something to wipe the tears from her face.

“Thanks”, Ava says, offering a small smile and haphazardly taking the soiled rag between two fingers. It was gross, but she appreciated the gesture. Always the perceptive robot. His name was unjustified

“You probably miss Daddy, huh?” Ava softly murmurs. In response the bot clicks its claws together and rotates the entire claw unit in a half circular motion; the movement always reminded her of a dog inclining it’s head.

Being her father’s first “creation”, they'd always jokingly referred to Dummy as Ava’s big brother. Although Ava knew Dummy was a machine, she ponders whether it had any comprehension of human mortality. Was Dummy truly anticipating her father’s return? Was Dummy capable of grice, or was it simply emotional transference? Logically, she knew the answer, but in the world she’d grown accustomed to, there were phenomenas that transcended human thought and notion.

Opting out of attempting to explain to a machine that its creator would never return, Ava turns her attention to her father's computer. The home screen saver was a photograph of Ava and Steve, taken when Ava was around two years or three years of age. Steve is playfully holding her up and she’s laughing, while In the background Tony can be seen fondly watching the scene.

She accessed some of her and her father’s unfinished designs, and dishearteningly reviewed the holographic projections. Amid her cyber-perusal, she uncovered a strategically placed hidden file that was labeled Monkey—her father's favorite nickname for her.

“Ava, please open up.” JJ’s voice sounds, followed by an incessant knocking. In the security monitor Ava could see her fiance standing outside the door. She doesn't respond, hoping that he will leave. 'Come on, babe”, JJ presses.“Just talk to me.”

Cursing under her breath, Ava frustratingly strides up to the door. “I just want to be left alone.”

“I’ve been all over the city looking for you. You had me scared.”

“I just can’t right now”, Ava says, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against the door.

“Steve’s been asking for you.”

Ava’s chest tightens as she pictures Steve standing alone in the hospital hallway where she had left him.

“Is there someone there with him?” Ava utters, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

“Yes”, JJ confirms.

“Good.” Ava releases the word along with a sigh of release.

“You should be with him.”

He may be right, but she despises him for saying so.

Her mind listlessly shifts through the various arrangements that need to be made: What kind of flowers did he like? She can’t remember if he even liked flowers.  
She’s selfish. That’s what everyone is thinking. It's what she knows. Steve needs her and she’s hiding out like a coward.

Then, softly, JJ adds, “He meant a lot to me too, you know. Uncle Tony’s always been there for me, and for my sister. Especially after Dad died.”

Uncle Rhodey had died a few years prior. The loss had been devastating for all of them, not only especially on his wife and children, but also on her father. They’d been best friends since college, nearly brothers, and her father had sunk into a depression. Despite his grief, her father had turned all his attention to Rhodey’s wife and children, making absolutely certain they were cared for both financially and emotionally.

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

Ava doesn't answer. She visualizes those lustrous pale eyes of his burrowing into her soul; Empathic and loving. Beckoning to her. He's comfort, and she is tempted to surrender to him, but there's a hurricane inside of her raging on, and there's no point in seeking shelter, it's too late. Or perhaps too soon.

“Okay”, JJ relents after a few moments of silence. He lowers himself to a seating position, his back resting against the door. “I’ll be here.”, he says, removing his phone from his jean pocket.

Ava shakes her head. She considers telling him to leave again, but she is overwhelmed with fatigue. She’s too weary to fight the gravitational pull, and she slinks to her side. She press her temple against the door and closes her eyes.  
She thinks of her father lying there on the examination table. When she’d reached out to touch him he’d felt cold, and she’d instantly retracted her hand, her fingers burning with the sensation. He didn’t look right. His appearance was odd, unnatural, like a dummy made in his likeness. It simultaneously was and wasn’t her father. A shell. It was a shell. A hollowed out shell once filled with her father.

Then it slowly dawns on her.

“James?' Ava croaks. It immediately strikes her as odd that she had called him by his name. She rarely called him James, and judging by the way his head snaps up, he's also caught off guard. “Neither of our dads are gonna be at our wedding.'

“No, they wont be”, JJ solemnly confirms.

“He was supposed to be coming home”, Ava says, her body quivering with emotion. “He was supposed to walk me down the aisle.”

'I know”, JJ emphasizes. “I'm so sorry, babe.” He's staring up at the camera at her. “But Steve will still be there.”

_Steve’s not my father._

The fleeting thought enters Ava's mind and pricks the tip of her tongue, but she is instantly filled with a jolt of regret and self loathing. The thought alone is an utter betrayal.

Steve was her father in every sense of the word, omitting DNA. It was non debatable. She loved him. He was her Papa. Had been in her life for as far back as she could remember.

But Steve didn’t understand her like Tony did. The bond they shared was nearly telepathic–they were so attuned to one another, always in synchronization. There were certain understandings solely privy between geniuses that was non verbally communicable–incomprehensible to outside parties. Everyone else knew Ava in fragments, while Tony viewed her as a whole. How could she ever be whole again without him to piece her together? Without Tony to hold her up, that long walk down the aisle suddenly felt a thousand times more daunting.

 

* * *

 

During the fleeting period of time between sleeping and waking is where dream and reality fade into one. The foggy thoughts are often are mistaken for reality because with the images resonating in his mind everything seems plausible.

Tony’s sleeping beside him. Steve can feel the warmth from his body pressed against his back; feel Tony’s arms wrapped around him in a loving embrace. Tony must have said something—although the words unclear– because his voice, inflected with love, still lingers in his ears.

Everything is right and there is nothing amiss to convince Steve otherwise.

Then during the few short seconds it takes for a sleep- fogged brain to clear and eyes to properly adjust, reality regains its clarity and immediately exposes the hoax of the mind. The dream abruptly fades until it’s nothing but a distant echo in the void. It’s like being submerged into icy water after being seized from a warm bed.

Light spills through the windows and floods Steve’s vision, causing him to squint against it. After a few brief blinks his eyes are properly adjusted and the living room comes into focus. Family photos align the mantel, the sun reflecting off the framed glass and causing a glare. An infomercial plays in the background, a woman demonstrating a vacuum.

It's his home, but it seems ten times larger, and a thousand times lonelier.

He fumbles for the remote before finding it on the ground and turning off the television.

He stares up at the ceiling as his mind drifts off into a million directions. He wishes he could close his eyes and return to his husband’s arms. The idea of just saying fuck it to everything and completely shutting down is too tempting, and he harbors this fear that once he gives into the pain he’ll slip into a catatonic state. He’ll drown himself with a lifetime worth of loss.

Steve’s avoiding their bedroom. He’s only entered the room to use the closet, and even that he attacks like he would a mission: swift, quiet, focused, in and out with as little casualties as possible (in this instance his sanity is the only possible causality).  
Time had stopped for this room, and was now stuck playing on loop the last time Tony was there. Everything would still be in its place: his glasses still on the bedside table next to his Stark pad, his clothes still hung up in the closet, his pills in the medicine cabinet, his toothbrush still in its holder.

Although the serum flowing through his veins keeps him young, he can feel the weight of time on his weary shoulders.

His body feels like lead, but Steve forces himself up and slowly makes his way down the hallway, doing his best to avert his eyes from the photographs on the wall, although he knows them by heart.. Passing his daughter’s bedroom, he suddenly comes to a halt. The door that had been previously shut was now ajar.

Steve quietly widens the door and peers into the room.

A sliver of the early morning sun pours in from the slightly parted curtains, casting light on his sleeping daughter’s form. Ava’s curled up On top of the comforter, the meticulously made bed Steve had redone after her last haphazard attempt, remained undisturbed. Clutched against her chest is her Tony bear. The bear had been Tony’s solution to Ava’s childhood separation anxiety, made in Tony’s likeness, complete with a working arc reactor wedged in its chest. He had called it the teddy bear project.

Ever since Ava moved to the Avengers tower her childhood room had remained vacant except when she occasionally spent the night. it is much too tidy now to look lived in, especially for a room that belonged to Ava, who was living proof that the messy genius stereotype had basis in reality. Her personality, though,still exists on the walls through the familiar collage of pictures, posters, sticky notes; the overcrowded bookshelves; the various academic awards that had accumulated since childhood.

Above the bed there is the mural of her original Avenger family–which naturally included Tony– that he had painted for her as a child. It was now added to the growing list of things Steve would be avoiding.

Steve stands at the doorway for a few moments, watching his beautiful daughter, before silently creeping into the room. His bare feet move across the carpeted floor, stopping when his foot touches a foreign object.. It’s the “Steve bear"–the counterpart to her “Tony bear”. Golden fur, blue plastic eye balls, dressed in civilian clothing. Placing the bear at the foot of the bed, Steve takes a seat on the edge, watching his daughter's sleeping form.

She looks serene, and in that moment the nearly thirty year old woman disappears and is replaced with a little girl.

 _“_ _I'm not a little girl anymore, Papa”,_ Ava’s voice echos in his mind. _“You can’t protect me from pain.”_

 _“Well I'm sure as hell gonna try”_ , Steve had responded.

 There was so much of Tony in her. Both brilliant, enthusiastic, vivacious, loving, and stubbornly insufferable. Tony was in her features: in her warm brown eyes, her lips, her dark hair,and ridiculously long eyelashes.

Tony was gone, but still a part of him would survive in Ava. The thought brought tears to his eyes.

Steve turned to exit the room, when he was stopped in his tracks by Ava’s voice, “Papa?” She murmurs, her voice gravelly from sleep.

“I didn’t mean to wake you”, Steve softly says, turning back to her. “Go back to sleep.”

Still lying on her side, Ava extends an arm to him, her fingers grabbing for him, beckoning him. Steve smiles to himself, and walks over to her. He takes a seat at the edge of the bed and intertwines his fingers with hers. Her hand is tiny compared to his, delicate like a child’s.

“I'm sorry”, Ava murmurs, raising her eyes to meet his.

“For what?” Steve asks, his forehead furrowed in bewilderment. She doesn’t respond for a moment, and the look of remorse in those large brown eyes is heart breaking.

“For everything”, Ava adds.

You have nothing to be sorry for”, Steve presses a quick kiss to the top of her hand. In response, the corner of her mouth lifts a bit, but it’s not even close to a smile. Steve frowns.“I didn't hear you come in last night.”

“You were half-asleep”, Ava explains. “You called out for Daddy… I identified myself and told you to go back to sleep.”

“I don’t remember that”, Steve says, brow frowning.

“You were tired.”

“Yeah…” Steve breathes out the word with a sigh.

“I'm sorry I left.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I just miss him so much.”

“Me too.”

“What happens now?”

Steve ponders the question. There are numerous arrangements that need to be taken care of. There’s the funeral, there’s the will, and a million other things that he rather not think about, but none of it has anything to do with the question posed. Where do they go from here?

“We’ll figure it out, I guess”, Steve finally says. “But as of right now, you’re going to come downstairs with me, and I’m going to make you breakfast. And that’s an order.

“Oh really?” Ava playfully challenges, a glimmer of mirth in her eye.

“Yup.” Steve pats her elbow and rises to his feet.

“Sir,Yes, sir”, Ava jests, sitting up and taking his extended hand.

 

* * *

 

_“Daddy!”_

_Ava's two years old, stumbling through the darkness on unsteady legs in search of her father._

_Suddenly there’s the sound of footsteps and Steve comes into focus. “It's alright, Ava”, Steve reassures her, lifting her into his arms. “Shh..” He soothes, gently rubbing reassuring circles into her back. “I’m here. I'm right here with you…”_

**Author's Note:**

> -The file that Ava finds refers to a possible future plot that emulates the current Iron Man series with Riri Williams.
> 
> For more Ava Stark-Rogers go to http://avastarkrogers.tumblr.com/


End file.
